


A Part of Me

by actually18pigeons



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, PTSD, Panic Attack, Whumptober 2020, anxiety attack, injury tw, no.18, panic attack tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actually18pigeons/pseuds/actually18pigeons
Summary: Whumptober 2020 Day 2 Prompt 18, Panic Attack. Bucky comes to Tony for help with his arm, blah blah blah, panic attack. Who knows where this fits in the MCU timeline but hey, whump.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941847
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	A Part of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2, prompt 18 for Whumptober 2020. Panic attack tw, and obvs discussion of a body modification. Enjoy, lemme know if you want me to add more, I think there's definitely potential to pick up where this chapter ends.

Tony ran his fingers over the ridges in Bucky’s shoulder, 

“Damn Barnes, how’d they get this thing on you?” He stared in wonder as the ridges raised and lowered like the wings of a fighter jet. Bucky signed, pushing his fingers against his swollen collar bone. 

“I… uh I don’t actually know… I was semi-conscious, in a lot of pain, I don't know but I think it might be attached to my spine cause when I move my arm back sometimes I can feel the metal grind on bone.” 

“Well that doesn’t sound pleasant,” Tony joked, turning back to his tablet, “Okay Barnes, I want to do some scans before we progress, I’m gonna do an x-ray and a CT scan. It’ll take me about an hour to get the machine ready.”

At the word ‘machine’ Bucky’s jaw tightened, fists tightening instinctively as adrenaline flooded his system, but he took a deep breath, Tony was a friend, he wasn’t going to hurt him. Bucky had come to him for help, and Tony would help him.

“It won’t be a long process, maybe a few hours, but then I can start drawing up some plans for new designs and the procedure to disconnect your arm.” Tony paused, looking up from his screen, his eyes settling on the puffy red inflammation where metal met flesh. “Damn, this is really inflamed, how long has it been like this?” Bucky grimaced.

He knew it was getting bad again, but he’d dealt with bad spells in the past and he thought he could deal with this one too until the twitching and pain got to be problematic. 

“It’s been maybe two weeks. Normally the pain gets better within a few days but it didn’t this time and it’s actually pretty bad. I can’t feel the ulnar side of my hand, and the feeling in my fingers is pretty much shot. Steve forced me to come down clearly, he said you’d be able to help. It’s fine if you can’t though. I’ve had this arm for decades I can handle whatever it throws at me.” Tony frowned, a hand scratching the overgrown stubble on his cheeks. 

“Yeah, Steve was definitely right. I can fix it. Probably just some shoddy wiring contributing to the loss of sensation. I’m more worried about the actual connection of the arm though. It’s kinda like an old car. Sure, repairing it will make it work, but at some point, unless you’re saving it for its emotional value, the cost and effort of repairing it are far more than it would cost to just get a new one. And I’m pretty sure this arm doesn’t have any positive emotional value. It’s getting to a point where every aspect of having this arm is detrimental to your health, both physical and mental.” Bucky smirked at the prospect that he had any non-physical attachment to the metal appendage. 

“If you can easily fix it, I say go for it, it works okay most of the time. If not I guess full removal will have to do.” Bucky said these words, carefree tone betraying the terror he felt at the prospect of losing this piece of himself. Despite the sheer amount of pain and anxiety it caused him, it was one of the few constants in his mess of a life.

Maybe he should just get up and leave, it’s not like Tony would stop him. He was just an inconvenience to Tony anyway, and he could deal with the pain just as he had for decades. Steve didn’t know what it was like, what did Steve know about what he should and shouldn’t do with his body. It’s not like Steve had a hunk of metal forcefully attached to his body while half conscious. 

Bucky could feel himself spiraling in these thoughts, it was all catching up to him, the weeks on increasing pain, his tumultuous relationship with Tony, the fear of disappointing Steve, the terror of losing a part of himself that he couldn’t get back. 

He stood up off the table he had been sitting on, still in thought, but just as his feet hit the ground, something electric sounded nearby. Some hidden, rational part of his mind argued that it was just a light, or some machine Tony was taking up to start prepping, and while that rational part was right, Bucky was already gone. 

Bucky startled as his heart raced and the room started to blur, he starting to stumble towards where he remembered the door being, but walked into a table instead, several wrenches clattered to the ground, the noise echoing in his ears. He staggered, tripping over some unseen obstacle, his partially numb arm and ringing ears doing nothing to slow his descent to the metallic floor. 

Tony was nearby, but not close enough to have any chance of catching him as he fell. Tony rushed to his side, not understanding what had happened. 

“Hey! James! What happened? Was it the wrench? It’s okay you didn’t break anything. The machines? If you aren’t comfortable in the CT machine we can try-”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, flesh hand coming up to cover his ear as he pushed himself further into the ground, trying to stop the memories flooding back. 

“Prep him!”  
“Get him under control!”  
“Wipe him and start over!”

He knew him. The man. The man on the bridge. He knew him. Some distant part of his mind provided the word ‘Steve’ but that meant nothing. He knows nothing. 

Rough hands hold him down, forcing the plastic into his mouth. Metal clamps close around his arms, tightening painfully on his right, metal grinding on the other. 

Tony kept his distance, not knowing if touching him would be comforting or make it worse. It could be a panic attack, but for all he knows it could be some pain response, or response to not being in cryo for too long, or any number of things Tony was clueless about. 

“Hey Jarvis? Call Steve.”


End file.
